Shall We Begin?
by Kawaii Thirteen
Summary: Peter and Paul find their next target, home alone Sam Turner. Would she be able to survive a night of sadistic humor and horror or will she fail? RATED M: For graphic scenes and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

The car journey to the Hampton's had been a tiresome one if that. First the traffic set back the travel time by at least two hours and then there was the delay in which to get gas and food. By the time Sam reached the Lake House the sun had begun to set into an orange glow in the distance.

As she neared the huge iron gates she instinctively reached within the glove compartment and retrieved the gate remote and clicked it. The car rolled gently against the gravel as the gates slowly shut behind her. The Lake House looked just the same as it always had done. White timber finish, old fashioned windows complete with shutters and screen doors. It stood beside the old green painted dock where Sam's father's boat usually resided. It was a breath taking house to say the least; it still held the same sense of familiarity and comfort that Sam experienced ever since she was a little girl.

Samantha Turner was grateful of her parents for actually going ahead and allowing their only daughter to use the Lake House as a means of escape from the usual daily routines for a College student. In fact Sam was more than privileged with such responsibility. In their eyes, their daughter could do no wrong; she was a high achieving student and was never seen to be discerning the Turner name with such things like taking drugs and drinking alcohol but that was the problem. With sticking to the rules religiously for the past nineteen years of her life, the defiant teenager that dwelled within her wanted to break free and rebel against everything that was causing her to conform. That's something her parents didn't know about and to be honest, Sam liked it that way. Having to endure boarding school with other teens just like her, it was fair to say she had picked up the art of manipulating and lying amongst other things and her parents were still completely clueless. They didn't question the reason behind why she wanted to spend the weekend away at the Lake House for if they had they certainly wouldn't have handed her the keys over so easily. They were led to assume she needed time away so she could write an essay for one of her classes that she couldn't put of any longer but if they had paid any attention to her, they would have realised their only daughter, the apple of their eye, was so ahead of any work that it meant she could slack off if only a little.

The car slowed to a halt outside the vast house and greenery that surrounded it. Peering up at the house a cloud of childhood memories came flooding back instantly. She remembered sharing her first kiss with a boy named Michael down by the water shore, helping her father put up the mass on the boat every time they arrived or even the spontaneously rainy nights when her and best friend Becka would build makeshift tents using her mother's expensive white linen bed sheets and pretend they were camping. Those seemed like distant memories and she missed being the carefree child that didn't need to worry about finals or boys. Removing her iPod from the car radio she was surprised to find that 'isolation' by Joy Division had been playing. She smirked at its irony before slipping it in her bag that sat on the passenger seat before pulling it on her shoulder and exiting the car. The house still smelt the same as it always had. A freshness mixed in with what she assumed was the sea breeze from the lake. She had to admit it, it was a little odd and slightly daunting knowing that she would be alone but she knew if she sucked it up, the time away would do her some good.

After packing away the majority of her things, Sam took it upon herself to open a bottle of her parent's expensive vintage wine from the wine rack thinking that it wouldn't be missed even if they did notice it had gone. She thought she rightly deserved it since she had spent almost five hours driving so with that, she poured herself a generous amount of the liquid as she retrieved her cell phone from within the confines of her pocket. As she speedily dialled the number, she awaited the familiar tones of her mother's voice. After a couple of seconds waiting, the call was finally answered.

"Hey mom." She started.

"_Hey honey, how was the journey there?"_ She could hear the sound of hangers clattering together in the background, knowing full well her mother was in the middle of dressing up for the evening._ "How is everything? You've remembered to open the windows haven't you?"_

Rolling her eyes before divulging into another long sip of the wine did she respond. "Fine mom, everything's okay and not yet."

"_You really should do it as soon as you get in; god only knows when the last time somebody opened them."_ Her mother complained.

"It's fine honestly, besides it's already getting dark so I'd feel safer knowing they were all closed at least until morning." Sam reasoned.

"_Have you seen anything of Uncle Frank? He should already be there vacationing with the family. He said he was going to keep a close eye on you, he doesn't like to miss a trick that man."_ Sam could picture her mother on the other side smiling at that remark.

'Uncle' Frank wasn't really Sam's uncle. It was a nickname that had somehow managed to stick for reasons even she wasn't aware of. She assumed it was a thing upper class people did with one and other, call each other 'Uncle' so and so, 'Aunt' this and that so the pretentious privileged were all intertwined with one and other. Uncle Frank lived across the road from the Turner's with his family and she always found him to be extremely irritating. Always turning up when he wasn't invited, always trying to be funny and 'down' with the kids. It was only when she started to develop female attributes that she'd catch him leering at her in her two piece bathing suits when she'd go swimming in the lake. The only good thing about Uncle Frank was that he had his daughter Becka, one of Sam's oldest and closest friends.

"Not yet, I was hoping to head over there in a while and see if Becka wanted to stay the night. It might do her some good getting away from her parents." Sam said as she fiddled with the cork in between her nimble fingers.

"_You know as much as I want to preach about the reason why we agreed to let you stay at the Lake House, I can't deny that it'd make me feel better knowing you weren't alone."_ Her mother's voice sounded concerned.

"Well I thought I'd check in with you anyways before I forgot, I know that you don't like to worry." Sam said completely changing the subject.

"_If you have any problems, any at all you call the police or you go straight to Uncle Frank's alright?" Her mother cautioned._

"Yes mom…" Sam groaned. She hated it when her mother would continue to treat her like she was still a child.

"_I know you're an intelligent girl Samantha, I just don't want you to make any stupid decisions."_

"Wow mom that actually sounded like half a compliment." Sam teased sarcastically. "Besides I'm not stupid enough to open to the door to anyone wearing a hockey mask baring a machete. So you have nothing to worry about. I doubt even some psychotic murderer will go to extreme lengths to scale the ten foot high fences to get to me." She reassured.

"_Well I trust you Samantha just don't give me a reason not to_-" At this point she could hear her father's voice mumbling in the background. _"I'm going to have to go now honey, your father's just got in and we made reservations for dinner at 'Le Bernardin' and you know what he's like when we're not on time." _And this point, her father's voice could be heard booming down the receiver complaining about needing to order a cab.

"Oh okay, I'll try and remember to call in the morning mom, bye."

"_Bye honey, I love you."_

Sam ended the phone call and proceeded to finishing the glass of white wine almost immediately after. She knew she'd need at least a helping hand from the Dutch courage if she was going to have to tolerate 'Uncle' Frank's presence.

Sam slipped on her khaki military coat before she slipped out of the front door being extra careful to hear the lock click before she hurried her way across the gravelled pathway till she reached the gate system where she punched in the access code. Once on the main road she was always surprised to find it eerily quiet. She was so used to the chaotic streets of the city that whenever she came to anything remote like this, it scared her a little. The sky was now black and was illuminated by a full moon and a few stars.

As she hurried along the wide road she immediately came face to face with a house of similar value to her own although it was clear that this one was bigger by comparison. Stopping at the huge gates she was surprised to find they were already open. Thinking nothing of it, she quickly entered the Bailey residence feeling oddly anxious as she carried on her quickened pace until she reached the front door.

She rapped on the door and braced herself for the Pervert to welcome her inside but instead she was stood waiting a good few minutes before she had to knock again. Her knuckles barely had time to drop away from the door when it swung open abruptly revealing a startled looking Becka.

"You took your time." Sam smiled as she hugged her. Only then did she realise her friend wasn't hugging her back let alone neither looking or acting like her usual bubbly self. "What's wrong?" She enquired with a raise of her eyebrow.

"Nothing why?" Becka enquired with a weak laugh.

Sam frowned slightly. "Well is this the welcome I get after not seeing me for six months?" She teased.

Becka shifted her weight uneasily onto each leg as she looked back over her shoulder repeatedly. "Sorry." She replied solemnly.

"Are you sure you're alright Becka? I mean if your dad's being an ass you're welcome to stay the night at mine." Becka went to open her mouth but was rendered silent when two figures appeared beside her. Becka's aura changed dramatically and Sam couldn't put her finger on the cause. "Oh, I didn't know you had company." She added as she took and adverse glance at the two strangers.

"I'm fine Sam, I'm just a little sick that's all." She said with a sniffle as she dabbed at her watery eyes with the back of her hand. She completely disregarded Sam's comment about the males beside her.

"Are you sure?" She asked again, her voice showing nothing but compassion.

"She's positive." Said one of the figures beside Becka. Sam now directed her attention to the mysterious pair now. Only then did she notice they were dressed in pristine white golfing outfits complete with the gloves to match. "Oh where are my manners? I bet you're wondering who we are." He spoke again noticing her quizzical stare. Sam pursed her lips together as she a waited for the stranger to continue. "I'm Paul and this is Peter. We've been staying with Betsy and Robert... I mean Mr and Mrs Callaghan; we've been keeping Becka Company."

Sam made note of both boy's appearance and demeanour and granted that she saw them as no other than friendly, accepted them as acquaintances. "Callaghan?" She questioned with a puzzled expression as she completely dismissed Becka's unnerving expression.

"They live in the old cottage just down the road, the one with the red dock." He explained hoping that it would trigger off something in her memory.

"They sound familiar; I bet they've been round to a couple of our BBQs before." Sam said optimistically.

"Becka's parents are out of town for the night so we thought we would keep an eye on her. She's not been feeling too good have you Becks?" He asked in a caring tone as he thrust an arm around Becka's shoulder and pulled her shaking body closer to him, all the while he remained to be smiling. But Becka didn't say anything, not even a whisper escaped from her lips.

Sam surveyed the tension between Becka and the two boys and then a devilish smirk formed upon her face. "Becka can I have a word?" She then looked up at Paul.

"Oh by all means don't mind us." He said as he ushered Becka to her friend before stepping back to give them if only a little privacy.

"What's the deal?" Sam asked in a hushed tone with a glint in her eye. Becka swallowed hard before sniffling loudly again.

"What do you mean?" She replied faintly.

"Drop the whole 'innocent' act. I know you've slept with one of them." She winked as she nudged Becka in the ribs lightly. "Go on which one was it? Or was it both?" She fake gasped.

Becka's lips twitched into a forced smile before she turned her head back to the young men, only then did Sam notice Paul was watching them closely and there she fought the urge to laugh as she wasn't sure if he had heard what they had been saying or not.

"Fine don't tell me, it'll add to the suspense of when you do actually come out with it in one of your drunken states." Sam joked. "Anyway, the actual reason why I came over was to see if you wanted to spend the night at mine. I am actually living the dream as we speak. I am parent free the entire weekend not to mention I have full dibs on the liqueur cabinet" She squeaked excitedly. "But it already looks like you have a busy night." She winked.

"Yeah I think I will come over." Becka said strongly. She cast Paul another wiry glance over her shoulder.

"You can invite your boyfriends if it means that'll you'll come and keep me company." She added with a chuckle.

Becka brushed her some of her sleek raven hair behind her ears before she was graced once more by the two men.

"I-I'll try and make it." She said.

"Yeah feel free to come over anytime, I don't think I'll be going bed any time soon. Plus I can hear that bottle of 1994 Chardonnay calling my name as we speak." Sam laughed.

"Where do you live?" Paul interjected. Sam quieted down almost instantly as she cast him an unsure look.

"Just across the road there." She said as she gestured with her thumbs, completely dismissing Becka's fearful expression.

"The house with the green dock?" Paul enquired.

"Yeah…" Replied Sam as she scrutinized his questioning nature.

Paul nodded in what Sam thought was approval before he added "It's very beautiful."

"Thanks?" Sam smiled unsure of how to take the compliment. "I better be heading back now anyway. Don't leave me waiting bitch." She now flung her arms around Becka one last final time before she started retracing her steps back to her own house.

"Bye" Peter and Paul called politely in unison.

"Bye Sam." Becka said wordlessly. Little did Sam know that that would be the last time she would see her best friend alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had given it at least two hours before she came to the conclusion that Becka wasn't going to come over. Turning the TV off, she placed the half empty wine glass onto the coffee table in front of her before getting to her feet. Clicking her neck as she flexed her limbs, she decided on having a hot shower as she had nothing better to do and her muscles longed for the hot water and steam to loosen them up.

As she stood in warm shower she had time to think clearly. Cupping her hands underneath the water flow she stared at the tiny splashes she was collecting in her hand, lost in thought. Why was Becka acting weird? She was certainly acting extremely out of character and she couldn't understand why. Another thought flashed in her mind and it involved the two boys she was with. They certainly looked and acted odd. They were definitely not from around here, Sam could tell that straight away. Shaking away the nagging thoughts from her head, she continued to shampoo her hair. Tangling her fingers into her auburn hair she let the intense smell of mango from her shampoo temporarily daze her.

Wiping the condensation from the mirror she then was able to see herself looking back. Her hair was partially dry now, drying into loose curls that lay just past her shoulders whilst her full fringe sat level with her eyebrows. She opted to wear a simple black tank top that hugged her tiny frame delicately, complete with a pair of navy blue shorts. She thanked the lord silently for having the type of complexion that could get away without needing to wear make up all the time.

As she headed back downstairs she tapped the screen of her phone hoping to see a missed call or text from Becka saying that she was on her way over but instead found nothing but the background picture of Sam and a boy whom she had liked back home, both baring big toothy grins at the camera and holding cocktails complete with umbrellas on the side. She had to admit she did feel glum at this point but she tried not to dwell on the fact her friend had bailed on her. It was Sam's idea to go to the Lake House on her own, and therefore she couldn't get mad at anyone if they didn't want to keep her company.

Entering the kitchen, she decided to crack open another bottle of wine thinking only of the fact that a drink fuelled slumber would numb any fears of being on her own and being intoxicated seemed more appealing than sat worrying about Becka. If her worries continued to persist, she made a mental note to go and see Becka in the morning and have it out with her, one to one. Uncorking the bottle, Sam glanced up at the clock in the kitchen only to realise it was only ten o' clock.

"Damn this is going to be a long night." She sighed to herself but only after she said that, there was an abrupt knock at the door. Her heart began to buzz with the prospect of Becka's arrival.

Placing the bottle on the counter, she cautiously made her way to the entrance where she had no doubt in her mind that the knock belonged to Becka. Not only was that Becka's knock but Becka was the only one who knew the gate combination. Opening the door excitedly Sam was more or less stunned to find the two boys from before, Peter and Paul leering back at her with overly friendly smiles plastered upon their pale faces.

Almost upon instinct, Sam snapped the door closely over her body, leaving it so the boys could only see her face, feeling her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

"Hello again." Peter piped up. Sam noted his voice was a lot softer and somewhat gentler than Paul's.

"Where's Becka?" She asked cutting straight the point. She couldn't deny she was disappointed at her friend's absence.

Peter looked to Paul for support and that's where Paul intervened. "Becka's fell asleep on the couch. Just after you left she was complaining about feeling queasy so we suggested that she take some aspirin and sleep it off. I hope you don't mind it just being us three; you did want some company didn't you? Or am I mistaken?" He spoke in a charming tone.

"Oh." Sam spoke up nonchalantly as she slowly removed herself from behind the door feeling a little more comfortable. "You're not mistaken. Shouldn't one of you go back and keep an eye on her though? I mean you were meant to be looking out for her; I'm just surmising that's what you'd want to do. If she's not well, I'd rather you go and look after her than keep me company." She smiled weakly.

"Oh that won't be necessary. Our duties have been fulfilled." Paul nodded almost hinting to be allowed entry.

Sam was in two minds about allowing them to enter. They seemed friendly enough, but there was something about them that didn't seem right. They were _too_ nice and almost robotic, like they held no genuine humane emotion.

"If you're sure that she's fine then I guess you can come in." And with that being said she side stepped and allowed the boys to enter her home.

Almost instantly the boys were stood analysing everything and every spec of detail with their greedy eyes. Sam surveyed them for a moment before she headed back into the kitchen. "What's wrong with her anyway?" She called as she retrieved the bottle of wine before she returned to the entrance to find Peter flicking through an out of date _Vogue _magazine.

"Stomach bug." Peter chimed in as he peered up from the magazine.

"Trust her to get ill the only night I drive five hours to see her." Sam joked as she led them into the living room carrying the wine and two fresh wine glasses.

"I guess so." Peter replied innocently.

Placing the glasses down beside her own, she peered up at them and caught them, once again analyzing the surroundings. "Is a 1998 sauvignon blanc okay?" She asked as she readied herself to pour the wine.

Paul looked up and gave her a more than accepting smile. "That'd be awesome thank you. C'mon Tubby where are your manners? Thank the girl for her hospitality." He scolded his weaker companion.

Instantly feeling bad for causing animosity between to the two boys she quickly tried to extinguish the tension. "It's okay honestly." She said sincerely as she handed both of them a large glass each.

"To a good night." Paul toasted and not one to be indifferent, she too clinked her glass with the boys.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam took a steady gulp of the wine as she watched both men stare down at the glasses, almost as if questioning the contents of it.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked as she quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"We should have said something before, me and Peter, we don't drink alcohol." Paul said apologetically. Although Sam could be sure he wasn't all that sincere with his apology.

"Oh, well it doesn't matter. Can I offer you another drink? We have some soda in the fridge." She suggested out of politeness as she went to take the drink from Paul feeling slightly annoyed.

"That won't be necessary thank you." Paul smiled as he watched her trace her steps back to Peter to grab his glass. Whether it was an accident or deliberate, Peter missed Sam's hand by a mile stone and the glass ended up, not only spilling a large amount of the expensive wine onto the wooden flooring, but the glass shattered into tiny shards around Sam's exposed feet.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Peter said softly as he gave her a look as if he was testing her reaction before swooping down to a crouched stance in an attempt to help clear away the remains of glass from the floor.

"It's fine." She said as she tucked some of her auburn hair behind her ears and she too crouched down low, carefully attempting to pick up the glass.

"Tubby what's wrong with you? You could have seriously injured her. – Are you alright? You're not hurt are you? – Peter go and grab her a cloth." Paul ordered and Peter obeyed without any hesitation almost as if he was scared of him.

As Peter left for the kitchen, Sam continued to try and pick up the bigger chunks of broken glass with her hands, but as much as she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of fear that was protruding into the room.

"I'm sorry about Peter; he has the worst hand eye co-ordination ever. I should have warned you." Said Paul but Sam wasn't listening much into what he was saying. She couldn't ignore the feeling of growing anxiety that was budding in her chest, no matter how she looked at it; the situation she was in was definitely not a promising one. She had invited two complete strangers into her home and they hadn't even gotten past the acquaintance stage yet.

"How did you get in here?" Sam asked randomly, interjecting Paul's polite ramblings as she looked up at him with her big, "doe" eyes.

Paul chuckled lightly before his flicked his tongue over his lips briefly, almost choosing his words correctly. "We came in through the gate." He said vaguely. He was acting as if she was asking a rather silly question. But it wasn't silly, not to Sam anyway. The only people who knew the gate combination was her and Becka.

"How did you get past the gate?" ignoring his quizzical stare she continued "I mean, how did you guess the gate combination?" She didn't disguise her furrowed brow as she watched his reaction.

"Becka told us the combination." He smiled sweetly although Sam could tell there was something a little off with his nice boy façade. "That's not going to be a problem now is it?" He asked.

Sam stood back up cradling a few chunks of glass in her palm as Peter returned to the room carrying a mustard coloured cloth. "No, it's not a problem. It's just my parents would freak if they knew I had told a couple of strangers the gate combination. And when I mean freak, I mean they will go nuts and cut me off." She said with a slight shrug as she took the cloth from Peter's gloved hand as he stood before her, an awkward smile plastered upon his face.

She had diverted her attention momentarily back to the smashed glass on the floor, now swooping back to collect the remaining shards and to mop up the excess spillage. She hadn't noticed both Peter and Paul's knowing looks and encrypted whispers of confirmation for if she had, she would have certainly anticipated the deafening crack around her face which was a result of Paul's fist connecting with her cheek which almost immediately sent her toppling to the floor into the shards of glass.

Pain radiated around her body and even more so, came in waves from her throbbing face as she lay in shock and pain on the floor. The glass was piercing into her pale flesh causing speckles of blood to form on her exposed legs and arms. She made to stand up but every time she applied pressure it made the glass cut even more deeply into her torn skin, like a reflex she began to cry out in pain.

Paul pulled an overly false sympathetic look as both he and Peter stared down at Sam almost as if marvelling at the damage they had inflicted. Both were unfazed by their actions, like what they had done was perfectly acceptable. They remained glued to the 'entertainment' for a brief moment until Paul spoke gently to Peter, "Peter, I think you should help up our host, don't you?"

Peter made to pick up Sam from the floor but she batted his helping hands away like he was filth.

"Get away from me!" She screeched as she tried to stand by herself but instead she hissed when the glass embedded itself even more so into her flesh causing her to flop to the floor with tears staining her face.

"Sam, you need to let Peter help you. He's a medical student; he can help you with your wounds." Paul said softly as he gave her a pitiful look.

Sam glanced up at Paul and then at Peter, almost questioning their motives from looks alone. She couldn't understand it at all, why were they suddenly acting so nice to her when just a second ago one of them had almost dislocated her jaw?

Paul rolled his eyes in a bored fashion as he made his feelings very well known to her that he was bored of waiting for her answer. He gave Peter another all knowing confirming nod and there Peter forcefully grabbed Sam and hauled her over his shoulder despite her protests.

She kicked madly with all her might hoping that one kick would successful and she would be freed from his clutch but he was a lot stronger than she had anticipated. He carried her away from the shards of broken glass and into the living room where he then, carelessly dropped her onto the couch. Sam winced at the impact as she felt the shards of glass that had really bonded into her flesh; sink further into her causing her a great of discomfort.

She sat up slowly and ran her hand over her slightly exposed thigh and felt the cause of her excruciating pain. She tugged on the shard of glass and cried out in agony as it slowly slid back out from her flesh causing a river of crimson to run down her leg.

By this point, Paul wasn't in the room. She didn't know where he had gone and he hadn't said where he was going to either. It was just Sam and Peter. Sam quickly hid the sharp shard of glass within her palm and tried best to remain nonchalant as she watched Peter kick the coffee table in front of her out of the way and rearrange the sofas so they could sit opposite one and other.

_He's the slower one_. She thought and she was right. If anyone was going to be a lapdog for an arrogant bastard like Paul then they surely had to be some what 'dim'.

She made to move from the couch but the feeling hadn't completely come back to her legs and she ended up flopping to the floor like a rag doll. Peter was lazy when it came to dealing with her; he saw her as no threat and leisurely took his time when he came to putting her back in her place. By the time she had managed to crawl half way towards the living room door he had grabbed her again, pulling her back onto her legs causing her to buckle and flop into him which suited him fine. He picked her up like one would if they were picking up his newly-wed wife and he replaced her back onto the couch.

She glared up at him in silence, the glass still in her hand ready to attack at just the right time. Once seated he spoke again "You need to stop making things harder for yourself. Paul and I don't think it's good that you keep fighting us. All we wanted to do was help you, what's so wrong with that?" For once she heard some aggression on his soft voice although she could have been fooled; he definitely wasn't the leader in the duo.

"Heads up butthead." Paul called as he entered the room and an object was thrust from one side of the room to the other and was caught ungraciously by Peter.

Sam saw it was her cell phone that was in Peter's gloved hand; she had left it upstairs in her room so that instantly told her Paul had gone in search of it. She made to lunge at Peter who was sat before her but was flung back into the couch by Paul who passed in front of her, carelessly and who, took a seat beside Peter.

He was grinning wildly, like a Cheshire cat as he caught sight of Sam's glowering expression. "What do you think we should do Sam, should we smash it or shall we have a little peak at who you've been calling hmm?" He said in a taunting way.

Sam swallowed hard and sniffled in response to him. She wasn't in the mood to play his childish games. "Just smash it, I mean that's what you were going to do all along right?" She snapped bitterly. "Just get on with it."

Paul smirked. _She's got something to hide._ He wondered if she would be the worthy opponent he was hoping to play with. But that notion was quickly diminished, she was a brat just like the Becka girl; she would be just as pathetic and useless as she was and with the way things were already going, she wasn't even going to last the whole duration of the night. He licked his lips in thought and then looked at Peter for his opinion.

"I think we should look at the photos." Peter said in an overly excited tone and he couldn't help but eye the phone in his hands eagerly.

"You know what, Peter? That's not a bad idea. Let's see how much of a bad girl Samantha really is." He laughed cruelly as he snatched the phone away from Peter and quickly began to scroll through the contents of the phone.

"Why? You're not going to find anything "dirty" on there." She barked at them. She already had the slight inkling that they were assuming she was some 'privileged slut' but still, she needed to assert herself, she couldn't allow them to think she was weak.

Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise but it was all in false pretence of course. He was mocking her and her ability to be stepping out of line. She had some nerve he thought but he that's as far as it went with the somewhat "praise."

"Won't we?" He responded with an over the top upward infliction.

A mixture of fear and loathing had manifested within Sam, why her? Why were they doing this to her? She hadn't done anything to them. Why were they playing these mind fucking games with her?

She chose to remain silent as Paul continued to sift through her private messages wishing all the while that she could go up and hurt him the same way he had hurt her.


	4. Chapter 4

It hadn't taken long for Paul to become bored with the phone and within minutes it lay beside his feet in a shattered mess.

Sam had attempted once again to lunch at him before his foot made contact with the screen of the device but instead she was grabbed by Peter who simply shoved her back onto the couch carelessly causing another wave of pain to radiate from her punctured flesh.

"I think it's about time we made a bet now. Wouldn't you agree Tubby?" Paul asked; a chilling grin ever so prominent upon his handsome face.

Peter smiled brightly in response as he went and sat back next to Paul who had pushed himself to the edge of his seat. His elbows were resting on his lap as he began to explain to Sam just what exactly had he had in mind.

"The bet is simple. We bet that by say – Tubby what time is it?"

Peter looked around and saw a digital clock on the DVD player beneath the TV reading 11:06pm in red lighting.

"11:06pm." Peter said quietly.

"That by 8 o'clock tomorrow morning, you'll be dead and you bet that you'll still be alive. Get it?" Paul's wicked grin never faltered and it unnerved Sam more than anything. She had trouble trying to come to terms with what he had just propositioned her with. Time felt like it was going by incredibly slow and the queasy feeling that dwelled within her stomach made her want to throw up the food that remained dormant there.

Nothing was sinking in or making sense. _He couldn't be serious… could he?_

"Samantha?" Paul asked in a sing song voice noting her silence. "It's not much fun if you don't play along." The way he was talking down to her was patronising and it reminded her of being scolded by a parent or teacher for misbehaving.

"I don't think she wants to bet." Peter chimed in innocently.

"That's not an option; she has to make a bet. It's the rules." Paul said gruffly as he casually stretched his legs out in front of him. "So what's it going to be then Sam? Do you accept the bet?"

Sam looked up through her tear sodden lashes at him, she could see a malevolent twinkle in his eyes mixed with something else but that still didn't deter her away from the dread she felt. She still didn't answer him.

"I'm just going to assume that your silence is a positive one." He spoke up once more before he got to his feet. "You know what I think? I think we should play a few games. It'll liven up the mood – Tubby, watch her." He pointed his finger at Sam who at this point was trying to shimmy off the couch again. Paul left the living room in search of something leaving Peter to keep an ever so close eye on Sam.

Peter couldn't help but eye the bloody residue on Sam's alabaster skin as she trembled with anxiety. Although they were definitely sadistically alike, Sam could tell they were polar opposites in some areas. She glared at Peter, almost as if threatening him with her eyes that if he continued to ogle at her she would exact her revenge but he saw that she posed as no threat, not while she was still unsteady on her legs.

"You have a lovely home by the way. It's really nice." His quiet voice spoke up into the silence and the comment knocked Sam for six. Was he really doing this? Was he really making idle chit chat after everything that had happened?

Her eyebrows drew together as her hardened expression faded and was instantly replaced with a more insistent look as more tears began to fall from her eyes quicker than she could wipe them away. "Just stop it… please…" She pleaded quietly, taking full advantage of the fact that she may have been able to sweet talk the more vulnerable one out of the duo. "You don't have to do this. I have money; I can give it you right now if you just stop it. I won't tell anyone. The police… they wouldn't need to-"

"Why do they always assume we want money?" Paul's voice interrupted Sam and caused a wave of dread to flood her system. She snapped her mouth and gulped hard when she caught a glint of light reflect off of a knife that Paul had managed to grab out of the kitchen. He retook his seat next to Peter unfazed by his actions or the look of protruding fear that was building inside of the girl opposite him.

"May I?" Peter asked as he eyed the weapon with an interested look.

"Be my guest." Paul welcomed the exchange with a genuine smile. Peter withdrew the knife from Paul's clothed palm and in return, marvelled it with sheer delight. Sam felt the stomach bile tickle the back of her throat as she watched Peter run a gloved finger up the flat side of the knife and she could only imagine that the only place that was going was in her gut.

"Here," Peter said as he attempted to give back the knife to Paul but he clumsily dropped it to the floor, narrowly missing Paul's right foot.

"Careful! You almost got me." He scolded Peter as he retrieved the dropped weapon. Peter instinctively hung his head in shame for a moment, almost as if expecting his own punishment to come later on after they had dealt with Sam.

Once Paul could tear his searing his eyes away from Peter, he diverted them back to Sam, almost softening his expression slightly although she could quite plainly see that there was nothing innocent or genuine about it at all.

"The first game we're going to play is called 'The Nervous Game'. Do you know how to play this game Sam?" His eyes never left hers and it took till she looked away to break the hold.

"No." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh man, you're going to love it; you just have to trust me that's all. You do trust me don't you?" He smirked at her but Sam gave him nothing, not even a fallen tear gave him any sign that she had acknowledged him. _She's definitely a stubborn one. _He thought but he had dealt with far more complicated characters before and done away with them just the same, she wouldn't be an exception.

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><p><strong>I was really hoping to try and make this chapter more eventful and at least a little longer but I think I'm going to make up for it in the next chapter. Thanks for everyone who's been readingreviewing and favoriting this story, you're actually encouraging me to carry on with this no matter how much I'm tempted to delete it :')**


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